


It Sounds Like A Whisper

by RedheadedBlondeBitxh



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:22:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26040334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedheadedBlondeBitxh/pseuds/RedheadedBlondeBitxh
Summary: Deacon wasn’t sure when it happened exactly, his job was intel after all. It was his responsibility to keep track of people, especially unknown variables like the Railroad’s newest member. The strange woman had been thrust into the unforgiving emptiness of the Commonwealth, dealt a horrifying hand that would have been debilitating to anyone else without half as much perseverance.He had been following her ever since he’d first heard she’d emerged from Vault 111 only to rush to help Garvey’s not-so-merry band of misfits stranded in Concord.She was like no one he'd ever seen.I.E Deacon realizes he's fallen for the old frozen relic. Just Fluff and big dumb danger egg processing feelings.
Relationships: Deacon/Female Sole Survivor, Deacon/Sole Survivor (Fallout)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	It Sounds Like A Whisper

**Author's Note:**

> Inspited by 'Revolution' by Tracy Chapman.
> 
> ‘Don't you know  
> They're talkin' 'bout a revolution  
> It sounds like a whisper  
> And finally the tables are starting to turn  
> Talkin' bout a revolution’

Deacon wasn’t sure when it happened exactly, his job was intel after all. It was his responsibility to keep track of people, especially unknown variables like the Railroad’s newest member.

The strange woman had been thrust into the unforgiving emptiness of the Commonwealth, dealt a horrifying hand that would have been debilitating to anyone else without half as much perseverance.

He had been following her ever since he’d first heard she’d emerged from Vault 111 only to rush to help Garvey’s not-so-merry band of misfits stranded in Concord. It was unlike something he’d ever seen. Sure, there were people who would put their lives on the line to help you, even if it wasn’t the most common exchange he’d seen.

Hell, there were even people who would rush toward the sound of a Deathclaw, given enough motivation or, more often than the alternative, given a large enough dose of chems emboldening their foolish disregard for self preservation.

At the very least, he’d expected her blind charity to stop at some point, but it never did. Everywhere she went, everyone she met, she took the time to talk to them, and see what she could offer them.

Sure, he knew all about her story, either from her own recount or from the bits he’d collected on his extensive fact-finding expeditions, but even that didn’t account for everything.

Because by God, there had been times where he’d seen her be down right cruel and ruthless. The way she had massacred the entire town of Covenent, brutalized Kellogg back in Fort Hagen, and shot that creepy bastard Finn in Goodneighbor when he’d tried to extort her without so much as a second thought, it was like a flip got switched that turned her into someone completely different. A ruthless killing machine, a formidable opponent against Coursers and deities alike.

Deacon had told himself it was just professional curiosity; he prided himself on being someone who could analyze and categorize people in a matter of minutes at the very least, if not a few hours on an off day.

Whisper was the anomaly, and given her relatively recent induction to their movement, he was supposed to figure out exactly what her motives were. Desdemona was convinced that the woman was hiding some sort of big secret from them, but nothing he found would indicate she had been anything but truthful.

A woman out of time, cryogenically frozen, forced to watch the murder of her husband and kidnapping of her only child from behind a cold, glass window, powerless to help.

Somewhere between the long stretches of gathering intel from afar and along their travels as partners, she had wrapped him around her very existence, consumed by her essence, and all he wanted was to know _more_.

Beyond her motivations with the Railroad or the Institute. Hell, he didn’t even doubt that she was only cooperating with the Brotherhood to make sure the Railroad had an in, if they ever needed it.

As she sat on the wall facing the ravine back in Sanctuary, sipping on her beer and shooting him a nervous glance, he was enthralled with her thorough account of her favorite novels and flowers from back before the war. She told him about her favorite recipes, her favorite meals or restaurants, and her renovation plans around Sanctuary to make the bustling little settlement seem more like a town.

He knew that none of what she was telling him tonight was of any use to the Railroad, she had proved her allegiance time and time again, but every sequential word out of her mouth became the most interesting thing he’d ever heard.

That was even counting the time he’d heard Glory explain a long, drunken-night of partying and how Drummer Boy had woken up next to a sleeping Deathclaw wearing a sequin dress in the Capitol Wasteland.

Nothing about her gave them any reason to doubt that she was Railroad through and through.

After she’d come back from the Institute, she didn’t even hesitate to tell them about Father, her son, the leader of the very thing they were plotting to destroy. He’d held her that night, after she marched out of HQ and collapsed into the alley, body wracked with violent sobs. It had been awkward at first, the only time they’d touched previously was on undercover missions but those times had felt rehearsed or mechanical, not close or vulnerable like they were then. But as he wrapped his arms around her, she’d clung to him like a life vest, and Deacon was more than eager to ignore the clawing at his chest at the contact, telling himself it had just been pity and sympathy. He wasn’t even sure when he’d decided to act on the impulse to hold her that night, it had just been reflexive.

Since then, their brief moments of contact had been grounding for them both. A shoulder squeeze or gentle pat on the back had been enough to calm either of them after a particularly nasty fight against a group of Gen 2’s or mutants or whatever else was thrown their way. On one occasion, he’d even cupped her face when she began hyperventilating, which brought her back to reality immediately, softening against his palm.

Deacon wasn’t sure when it happened exactly, but as he watched her animated expression recount a particularly entertaining story about the night the Minutemen took over the Castle and celebrated a bit too much with much of the liquor they’d found inside the General’s quarters, he knew that he had gone and fallen in love with this infuriating woman.

After all the times he’d preached and bragged about being professional, not trusting everyone who seemed like they had good intentions, and keeping yourself distanced from personal drama, he’d found himself in the very predicament that he had foolishly believed he was incapable of ever being again.

This seemingly innocuous woman emerged to her entire world ravaged by the fallibility of humanity, trekked clear across the Commonwealth in search of her son, and somehow managed to raise a militia in the process.

She’d covered more ground in a few months than what the Railroad had accomplished in decades, all while not compromising her soul in the process. Whisper had found a way into the illustrious Institute, escaped, and managed to convince them to allow her free reign inside their facility.

Deacon was enamored, his own impenetrable fortress had been breached, and he knew there was absolutely nothing he could do to deny her access to any part of him.

Not that she’d have him, in any sense of the word. He was a lying, manipulative, cold-blooded murderer, and no amount of atoning could wash that blood from his hands. There was nothing he, nor anyone one else in the Commonwealth, could do to be truly worthy of her time for more than a few moments at a time, but by Atom, he’d be happy to take as many moments with her as he could get.

Whisper paused, shivering as she tried to pull her plaid over shirt tightly around herself, before continuing her explanation of old-world Halloween traditions. Deacon had been particularly fascinated with the holiday designed specifically to let children run around in disguises, even if only for one day a year.

“You know, you have a human size space heater literally just a foot away from you.” He joked lazily, pretending the offer was flippant in nature. “If you can’t be around me for that long because you’re worried I’m too sexy, I totally understand. I once seduced Mayor McDonogue after a particularly risque dance number at the Dugout Inn. Granted, I was in drag at the time, but I’m pretty sure I had him either way.”

Whisper laughed, rolling her eyes at the obvious falsehood, but much to his surprise, she scooted closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder. “Well come on, tough guy. You gonna share some body heat or what?”

“Hmm... I know this shirt looks baggy, but your night watch might freak out if they saw us both trying to fit inside it.” He placed his arm around her shoulders, pulling her slightly closer as she let out a small chuckle.

“You joke, D, but they used to have these ridiculously large shirts for that very reason. It was like a joke gift, for couples that were a little too into each other.” She explained, looking up at him, their faces only a few inches away from each other.

“Ah, like Maxson and Danse.” He nodded, trying to hide his own amusement at the quip. Any attempt to repress his smile was immediately failed as she let out a full, genuine laugh, cuddling closer to him.

“Exactly.” She agreed, reaching forward to check her PipBoy, turning the faint sounds of Diamond City Radio on. With the sudden movement, Deacon realized his hand was now on her waist, but Whisper just settled back against him, as comfortable as before.

A part of his subconscious mind was nagging at him, picking up on things his thoughts had yet to catch up with. He scanned her face carefully, the faint blush creeping up her neck, her over exaggerated movements reaching for the PipBoy, and the nervous flutter of her eyes, pretending to scan the horizon.

_Oh._

**_OH._ **

Deacon smiled softly, tightening his arm around her waist and rested his face against the top of her head, the faint sounds of Magnolia’s ‘I’m the One You’re Looking For’ dancing from the PipBoy.

‘Or are you hungry to be somebody else? So sit down your pretty face. You came to the right place. Oh, where every night it starts once more’

**Author's Note:**

> Might be a one shot, might be more. Depends.


End file.
